


Conversations Between Heartless Women

by Fiddles



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Gen, I Don't Even Know, just bear with me it'll be a bunch of sad nonsense or w/e
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-11
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:22:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24134269
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fiddles/pseuds/Fiddles
Summary: Is it? Weak, I mean. Is it weak to feel? To love?The shadow scoffs. 'Love' is why you're like this now. All metal and sharp clockwork.Her derision is met with a rebuttal. Were you weak to love him?
Comments: 3
Kudos: 11





	1. Pieces

_What is it about hearts_ , the woman asks. She stands in the alley, gears whirring in the quiet air. _They always go last,_ she says, _after every other piece has been replaced. Yet they're the most important and the hardest ones to lose._

The shadow does not take long to answer. _It is their core, what makes them human. What makes them weak._

_Them? Do you think yourself unlike them? Different? Other?_

The shadow chuckles softly, running a finger across damp alley walls. It comes back filthy. She scowls. _Do you not?  
  
_

The two are silent for a while.  
  


_Is it? Weak, I mean. Is it weak to feel? To love?_

The shadow scoffs. _'Love' is why you're like this now. All metal and sharp clockwork._

Her derision is met with a rebuttal. _Were you weak to love him?  
  
_

Blades stagger against rough cobblestones. There is no answer. Thick fumes descend into the streets, but neither figure moves. They do not need to breathe.

_I think it was you, not the heart, that ceased to love. I still have love for people._

Blue eyes shine through the suffocating fog. _Did you love your father?_

The woman stills.  
  


_Yes. No. I don't know. He said he loved me, perhaps that is enough._

The shadow raises an eyebrow. _Is it?_

There is a pause. _No._

A few moments pass as the shadow paces around, giving the woman an appraising look. _It would seem,_ she says, _that we both have given up our hearts to men that we abandoned._

The woman turns, eyes burning. _I did not abandon him, I escaped. I claimed my freedom._

The clinking stops. A frown has creased the shadow's forehead. _You could have left him, gave the heart to someone else, or thrown it in the Sumps._

_It wouldn't do to waste it._

_You could have simply left._

_I couldn't though,_ says the woman, _I couldn't stand and watch him die._

Another pause, longer this time. The shadow's arms remain behind her back, as always. _Did you not want to? Watch him, I mean._

The woman whirrs sadly, her face is motionless and placid, as always. _Maybe. I do not like to think of it._

Satisfied, the shadow leaves.

* * *

_Would you still help them,_ she asks. It is a simple question, but the woman struggles with the answer.

Eventually she speaks. _No, not yet._

The shadow sniffs, entirely for show. _I thought you loved them, you said as much before. Was that a lie?_

The woman fiddles with her fingers, they are cold to her touch. _No._

_Then what?_

_Time,_ the woman says.

_Time?_

_I need time. To think, to be, to explore. This process is not an easy one to undergo, you know this._

The shadow does know, but does not say as much. Instead, she asks another question. _Time to be free?_

_Yes, free. Free to recollect myself._

Distantly, machines spew steam and smoke into the skies.

_I do not follow._

The woman would sigh, had she the lungs. _I gave so many pieces of myself away,_ she whispers, _that I do not know if there's any of me left. I choked so they could breathe, built so they would laugh, gave my heart so he would live._

 _I still question you for that,_ says the shadow, but she's ignored.

_I lost all the pieces, replacing them with cogs and cranks and valves and pistons. But now there's nothing left, nothing more to give. I need time so-  
  
_

The shadow cuts her off.  
  


_So you have more to give? So you can choke and build and do it all over again?_

More questions, more time spent struggling for answers. Is that still her goal? After everything?

_No,_ the woman says. _I don't know. I suppose we'll have to see.  
_

The shadow nods. _I suppose we will._


	2. Change

_Why did you do it?_

_You'll have to speak up, dear._

The woman rolls the apertures in her eyes. She is ignored. _I said, why did you do it._

_Do what?_

_Change. Like I did.  
_  
  
The shadow rappels closer to the rooftop. _Why should I say?  
  
  
_ The woman crosses her arms. _It would be unfair to tell me nothing after I have told you everything.  
_

The shadow sneers. _Do you think I care about what's fair or not? Do you think anyone does?_

 _I_ _do,_ the woman protests, _plus it would be impolite. Discourteous even.  
_  
  
This, oddly, proves effective. The shadow looks in the distance, displeased.  
  
  
 _Fine._ _Though you already know most of it._

 _I know about the man,_ the woman offers and there is a stiffness in her companion.

_Yes. His name was Hakim._

_Hakim,_ the woman says, _is he gone now?_   
  


There is no answer.  
  


_You said you chose duty over love. What did you mean exactly?  
_

Without a sound, the shadow lands on the rooftop. She begins scratching crude drawings of complex mechanisms with her bladed legs. Eventually, she stabs one leg emphatically into her illustration.

_What happens when a single cog is out of sync with all the rest? When its very presence causes undue strain and damage to the way of things?_

The woman ponders her response. _Perhaps the cog belongs elsewhere._

_No._

Gears whir and magic fills the air, threatening to erupt. There is a swift, violent movement and a burst of light. A small, smoldering hole is all that remains.

_The machine sputters and degrades, breaking apart from within. That's what happens. My family will always come first and so I refused to be our undoing. That is why I told him to cut away my heart. That is why he left.  
  
_

Several streets away from their conversation, a man with brass legs steps out of his home and walks briskly toward the descender. The shadow takes note of this.  
  


The woman's hands start sifting through the small puddle of cooling stone and ashes. Her augmentations hum in soft pulses as the pieces rise. She moves her fingers like a pianist, the shadow thinks, neatly shaping broken rocks into a small row of turning gears. Her own mechanisms detach from her, forming a larger ensemble of ticking clockwork with the former pebbles. It feels strangely well-structured, as if the brittle gears of stone could never crack from the continuous, grinding motion. Then, with a wave, every gear is removed and reassembled in its place. The stone gears break into smaller pieces, drifting down to form a small covering over the hole.

_Do you,_ the woman asks, _still love him?  
  
_

The shadow turns away, to watch the brass-legged man. _No,_ she lies.

_I think what really hurts,_ the woman continues, _is that you could have had him still. He left, but had he stayed, you would see to both your duty and your love. Your heart is gone, but still you feel the same. You still love, I still love and-_

The woman pauses, trying to pick the right words. _We may have metal limbs, Camille, but our thoughts and feelings cannot be mechanized.  
  
_

Grimly, the shadow turns to face her. _Look at yourself girl,_ she whispers, _who in their right mind could ever love you now?_

There is a blur as the shadow leaps off the roof, after her quarry, eager for something to kill.

The woman stays behind, unable to shed the tears welling up inside her circuits.

* * *

_Hello,_ the woman says, though it's a cold and hollow greeting.

She stands inside Zaun's Northside Heap, willing scraps of metal and coiled wire to move. Her slender fingers, so much like a pianist's, pull unseen strings to assemble pieces into wholes. A spinning ball hangs above the woman's head. Watching her, the shadow uncrosses her arms and steps forth into the light.

_You caused quite the disturbance yesterday,_ she says.

The woman replies, but does not slow her work. _So I did._

The shadow steps closer. _Curious, I never took you for an anarchist.  
  
_

_I would rather we did not discuss it.  
  
_

_Would you now?_ The shadow's words drip with condescension. _Do you have any idea what you did? Any notion of the consequences which your actions bore?_

The woman does not flinch. _I expect you shall inform me._

The shadow procures a piece of paper, which she unfolds in one loud crackle. _An assault on two watchmen, both of which were heavily concussed, not to mention the financial damages._

_Strange,_ the woman interjects, _how a Ferros Intelligencer takes such keen interest in the affairs of a Zaunite carnival._

_And stranger still,_ the shadow hisses, _how the woman who once gave her life for this wretched city would leave its people half-paralyzed in the streets.  
  
_

A long, uncomfortable silence stretches between them. It's been a staple of their conversations from the start, though lately the quiet has developed a more hostile nature to it. It makes the woman a little sadder to consider this.  
  


_Do you feel at all responsible?_

The shadow's eyes narrow. _Pardon?_

_The Gray. Zaun. This sumpyard,_ the woman waves around with one arm, _your family is to blame for most of it._

_My family is why you're even alive to spout this nonsense.  
  
_

A dozen metal plates suddenly fall to the ground. The woman, wearing her ever-blank expression, turns around. _Your family is why I had to save those people from the Gray. If we lived outside their influence, then we both would have been happier people.  
  
_

The blade almost catches her off-guard. Almost. A flick of her wrist and she's shielded from the blow. Undeterred, her attacker presses on, with malice in her eyes.

  
_I think,_ the woman says, barely dodging each hit, _that you agree with me. You cannot hurt me if you are fighting with yourself, Camille.  
  
_

_Is that **so?  
  
**_

Snarling, the shadow leaps into the air and slams onto the woman's chest. Her blades pierce deep inside the clockwork, stopping inches away from the mechanism of her heart.  
  


_I could kill you right now,_ she bellows, _tear you apart and leave the pieces for the sump-scrappers!_

_No,_ the woman says, unconcerned. _You will do no such thing.  
  
_

There is a sudden pull in the air, as the shadow is knocked into the nearest pile of trash, unconscious.

* * *

_What do you think of the Church,_ the woman asks.

Displeased with her detection, the shadow descends from her vantage point. Oozing liquids hiss at her blades when she lands.  
  


_You'll have to ask again.  
  
_

_The Church. They think I'm beautiful,_ the woman says, _divine even. I'm not sure what to make of that._ Her fingers play a melody as metal limbs assemble all around her from nearby junk.

_Is that why you're making these,_ the shadow asks, _for the faithful?_

_If I say yes, will you try to kill me?  
  
_

The shadow clenches her jaw, but does not respond.   
  


_There is a boy,_ the woman continues, _he has a brilliant mind and a kind heart. A bit religious, not the Church kind mind you, and very very poor, but I suppose most people in Zaun are._

The shadow places her arms behind her back. _I do not follow, is he..._ she struggles for the word... _affectionate towards you?_

_Oh, but look at me,_ the woman says. _Who could ever love me now?_

_  
_Long, metal extremities slowly wade through the heap a little ways up ahead; scavengers, seemingly oblivious to their conversation.  
  


_He's been denied scholarships due to his background, though I'm sure you're well-acquainted with Piltoverian elitism. As it stands, I've elected to offer him my aid._  
  
The shadow remains quiet.

_Most of_ _these_ , the woman gestures to her constructions, _will fetch good coin and the rest are useful learning tools._ _Though I suspect he has little to learn from me._

She continues speaking, about schematics and arcane circuitry, but the shadow's mind remains transfixed elsewhere. Two dull pieces in the woman's torso clash with the silvery sheen of her plating. To the shadow, they look like scars.  
  


_I thought you were taking time to yourself. To be free._

The woman laughs through her artificial voice box. _I am,_ she says, _I'm free to be wherever and however I wish. Right now, I'm freely choosing to help someone in Zaun._

The shadow scoffs. _It sounds like you're falling back on bad habits._

_Then I suppose, we are both afflicted with an inability to change. Ironic, isn't it?_

  
With a final wave of the woman's hands, the artificial limbs and assorted devices are assembled and bound in loose orbits around her floating ball.  
  


The shadow stiffens. _You haven't told me yet, why you attacked those watchmen in the carnival._

_And you,_ the woman counters, _haven't answered my question. What do you think of the Church?_

Looking up into the heavy Gray, the shadow's expression changes to a detached frown. _Truthfully? I think they are pitiable._

_What of their beliefs,_ the woman asks.

_I do not concern myself with zealotry. Their faith is all their own._

_I see,_ the woman says, but she suspects there is more left unspoken.  
  


_Now you will answer my question, why attack them?  
_

The woman turns away to wind herself, a required process for her continued function. After she's done, the woman speaks. _I saw a machine and thought he was like me. He said his name was Fieram. I didn't know there would be guards._

The shadow steps closer.

_What do you mean 'like you'?_

  
_I tried to free him, the woman continues, I wanted us to both be free. I didn't know there would be guards. I didn't mean to hurt them._

The shadow scoffs in disbelief. _You mean to tell me that you assaulted two watchmen for a mere toy? A toy which you, a toy-maker, mistook for being 'like you'?  
  
_

The woman remains silent.  
  


_I think, my dear, that perhaps the sump has addled your mind._

_No,_ the woman says. _I just didn't want to be free and alone. I didn't want to be alone.  
_

_Don't be foolish,_ the shadow says. _We may have our disagreements, but we are not alone.  
  
_

Wordlessly, the woman stares into blue, glowing eyes. There is a lull between them, unspoken words made clear. 

After a few minutes, she departs, leaving behind the shadow.


End file.
